A Girl After His Own Heart
by Kasey22
Summary: Very short fic about a random mutant Logan meets in his travels. Set after the second movie. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter One

A Girl After His Own Heart – Chapter One

Disclaimer:  I don't own anything but the story idea.

A/N:  Set sometime after the second movie.  Just a quick warning:  this is rated R for a reason.  Language, implied violence and sex are all going to happen, so if it's not your cup of tea, please don't read this.  It's a very adult fic revolving around Logan and an OC (which I do own, so she better not pop up in another fic out there….).  There will be swearing, there will be sex, and there will be some violence.  Okay, I'm done.  

~~

Logan jerked awake and found himself in the passenger seat of a moving pickup truck.  Immediately tensing his body and unleashing his claws, Logan punched his left fist at the driver, stopping just short of breaking the skin on her neck.  His right fist was raised and ready with another threat.

"Jesus!" she yelped, startled.  "Easy there, Tiger."  

"Where the fuck am I?" he growled, still pointing the tips of his adamantium claws at the creamy skin of her throat.  His eyes bore into her profile as she continued to drive through the dark night.

"You don't remember?" she asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at his lack of memory.

"No," he answered tightly, and for good measure slowly pressed the points of his claws into her soft skin.

She was driving crazy, like a bat outta hell, taking corners too fast and weaving in and out of the little traffic that there was on the highway.  Her headlights illuminated the stretch of road in front of them and to Logan it seemed to go on for miles.  The road was black in stark contrast to the deep snow on the shoulder.  It occurred to him that the inside of the truck was freezing and for the first time noticed that a black leather jacket – not his own – was slumped in his lap having fallen there from his broad shoulders when he'd sat up so suddenly.  The woman opposite him was wearing jeans, and waffled long underwear beneath a dark tee shirt.  She had dark brown hair and pulled back into a messy low knot with loose ends falling against her flushed cheeks and neck and she smelled…familiar somehow.

Irritated at his threat and hoping to frighten him off, or at the very least make sure he understood that she wasn't to be intimidated, she growled back at him, "Fuck you, asshole.  Even if you don't remember it, I saved your ass back there, so a little gratitude wouldn't be completely out of order."  

"I'm very grateful," he replied with steel in his voice.  "Now what the hell is goin' on?"

"What's going on is that I didn't have to take you with me when I busted outta that _hole_.  You know you're one heavy mother fucker.  Getting you into this piece of shit was not easy."  She was talking a good game, but Logan could see a trickle of fear creep into her blue eyes as she wondered if she'd made a mistake in taking him with her.

He considered her.  "You got me into this truck on your own?"

"It was just you and me back there," she answered with a grunt and a rueful shake of her head.  

Flashes of memory came back to him.  He remembered being drugged with something and strapped on a table in a dark room.  There were voices and he couldn't move.  He sensed another body nearby, slow breathing and a heartbeat, but before he could turn his head to look around, the door opened and in walked a familiar face.  He relaxed his elbows a little, but did not pull back from his threatening stance as he spoke the name.

"Magneto," he snarled at the image his brain had conjured up.

"'Scuse me?" she answered, still flying through traffic as if they were alone on the highway.

Shaking himself, Logan refocused on the woman in front of him.  She was small, not more than five foot, if he had to guess, and probably didn't weigh more than 115, soaking wet.  How the fuck had she managed to drag him from that sorry excuse for a cell and get him into this piece of shit truck?  He was solid muscle even without the metal skeleton.  It was logistically impossible.

"Hey," she said, getting a little pissed off.  "What the hell is a magneto?"

"Not a what, a who," Logan replied in a low voice.  "Magneto is a man."

"Fuckin' messed up name," she muttered, knuckles white on the steering wheel.  The heater was broken and she'd thrown her leather jacket over him for warmth.  In a way it was good, the freezing temperature had kept her awake during the long drive.

"His real name is Eric."  
  


"The old guy," she said in realization.  "That blue bitch called him Eric."

Logan looked at her sharply, realizing she was referring to Mystique, as she continued. "They were going to work on you pretty good.  Him and that monster a his."

Again, Logan had a flash of memory as he felt the torturous strokes of metal on skin all over again.  His healing factor hadn't allowed him to die, but death was not what Magneto was after.  Magneto wanted to cause him pain and the monster she referred to, Sabertooth, had been only too happy to oblige.

"How did you get us out of there?" he asked as he finally brought his claws down, but not relaxing his body at all.

"Long story," she answered him shortly and with a quick shake of her head.

"Where are my clothes?"  As far as he could tell in the dark, he was wearing his jeans, white muscle tank and boots with the strange jacket sort of thrown onto him.  His own jacket and over clothes were gone.

"I didn't have time to look for 'em," she answered regretfully.  "We left as is."

"I'm Logan," he offered.  "Who are you?" 

"I'm nobody," she said with firm shake of her head. 

"What were you doing there?" he pried.

"Dunno," she admitted.  She almost wished she did know so that she could figure how they'd gotten her.  She'd woken up from the drugs the same as he had, but he was already on the table, which meant that they had just tossed her on the floor and expected the bindings on her wrists and ankles to hold. 

"Are you a mutant?" he questioned.

"No," she snapped, immediately on the defensive.

He narrowed his eyes and said, "You're lying."

"So what?" she sneered.  "You gonna slice an' dice me while I drive?"

"What's your power?" he demanded.

"Puttin' up with assholes," she cracked as she exited off the highway onto an even more desolate stretch of road.

He nodded an approval at her answer.  She was feisty, he'd give her that.

Finally he turned his attention away from her and focused on the road.  She was still driving way too fast and it made him nervous.  He didn't feel comfortable as the passenger, especially when she so clearly ignored the rules of the road. 

"You should slow down," he cautioned in a soft but loaded voice.

"You should fuck off," she replied gruffly and reached for the radio.

Radar Love blasted into the cab and she relaxed as the music ground into her brain and made her forget the things she'd seen them do to the man next to her. How he was still alive she didn't know.  In fact, she'd planned on heading for the nearest hospital after their escape and had pulled off the highway toward one, only to watch his wounds heal themselves before her very eyes.  Once healed, she felt that to go into a hospital, covered in blood, but with a seemingly healthy though unconscious man, would only create questions to which she had no answers.  He'd passed out from the pain at some point on the table and while pulled over, she'd noted that his breathing was normal, so she'd gotten back on the highway and hadn't stopped since.

Logan noticed that the clock on the dash read 1:07am.  They must have been driving for hours.  

Snapping the radio off in irritation, Logan growled at her, "You gotta name?"

"Everybody's gotta name," she replied as she reached for the radio again.  He caught her wrist in his fist and squeezed, testing her.  Anyone else would have crumpled under the pressure he was exerting on her flesh, but she simply extended her middle finger, narrowed her eyes and smiled at him again.

Releasing her, Logan felt that he had to respect the fact that she was taking his abuse and dishing it back at him.  Who the hell was this bitch?  She was wary of him, but unwilling to back down at a fight.  He could sense that she was a little afraid, but also a little cocky.

Obviously she was a mutant.  There was no way she'd have been able to move his dead weight around unless she had superhuman strength.  Also, there's no other explanation for her presence in that underground cell of Magneto's.

"Why did you take me with you?" Logan asked her quietly, his eye boring holes into her own.

At this she shrugged unable to reply at first and Logan was thankful that she hadn't giving him another smart-ass come back.

"Why?" he asked again, louder.

"It didn't look like any kinda fun what they were doing to you," the woman replied grimly.  "After the old man left with that blue bitch, I fucked up the mutant and was on my way outta there.  But I thought it'd be close to murder leaving you there, too.  Now, don't get me wrong.  Killin' evil fucks like that is easy.  Lettin' them kill you, though, is something else."  She paused and looked at him.  "And if you turn out to be an evil fuck, too, I can just kill you later," she added with a warning smile.

He arched an eyebrow at her and sat up a little in his seat.  Ignoring her blatant threat, though, he pressed for more information on their escape, "How?"

"Like I said, long story," she repeated.

"We've got plenty of time," Logan answered determinedly.

"Actually, no," she said as she pulled onto a dirt road. "We're here."

Logan tensed again as he strained to take in his surroundings.  "Where are we?"

She pulled up to a battered old Ford in front of a small house and said gloomily, "My place."

"Your place?" he repeated.

"Yeah, my place."  Her tone of voice was one usually reserved for children.

"The fuck are we doing at your place?" he asked suspiciously.

"Call me crazy," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "but we've been driving all night in this freezing ass truck and that hole back there was filthy.  I could use a hot shower and a change of clothes."  She regarded him from across the seat before she continued.  "You, on the other hand, are fresh as a daisy."

"Fuck you," he gritted out.

"Hurt me bad," she taunted.

They got out of the truck and made for the house.

"You got any roommates?"

"Do I strike you as the kinda gal who has roommates?" she asked.

"No," he allowed.

"Didn't think so."

"How do you know Magneto isn't following us?" he asked warily.  "Maybe we should keep moving."

"What's left of that base isn't enough to track a fly," she reported.

He immediately remembered the explosions she'd alluded to earlier.  She was right.  There was nothing left of that operation.  He wondered vaguely if Magneto was even still alive.

The woman unlocked the front door and entered, holding it open for him behind her.  The house was dark but warm and he could feel her body heat seeping towards him in the darkness.  He inhaled her scent and again found it oddly familiar.

She snapped on the light and she allowed him to move ahead of her in the small space as she closed and locked the door.

Moving toward the rest of the house, the woman tried to snake past Logan again to lead him in the direction of the bathroom, but he caught her roughly and pushed her against the wall, one knee pressed between her legs, his pelvis crushing hers, claws extended and pressed against her chest.  Her tiny body was crushed against his weight.

"Before we go any further," he purred viciously, "I think we need some ground rules."

She narrowed her dark blue eyes and spat, "Fuck you."

"We'll see," Logan promised.  "In the meantime, you need to know that if you try to fuck with me in anyway, if this is some kind of trap, I will spend the rest of my life hunting you down so that you pay."

"You practice that speech?" she asked with clenched teeth as she tried to jerk away.  He held her fast, though.  

"Do you understand me?" he asked.

"Yeah," she growled.  "But know this.  It goes both ways."  He nodded his acceptance of these terms and released her.  

She turned and led him into the little house.


	2. Chapter Two

A Girl After His Own Heart – Chapter Two

Disclaimer:  I don't own anything but the story idea.

A/N:  I didn't mention anything in the first chapter about archiving (mainly because I don't really think anyone would want this little piece), so I just want to say that if you'd like to archive it somewhere, just tell me first.  Thanks.  Also, this is still rated R for a reason.  Language and sex are coming up straight ahead so if it's not your cup of tea, don't read it, okay?  Everyone else, enjoy.  Or not.  Leave a review and tell me if this totally sucks.

~~

As she moved toward the living room and flung her leather jacket onto a chair, she heard him sheath his claws.  Her tee shirt was coming untucked in the back and he saw that he'd been mistaken before when he'd assumed that it was dark-colored.  In fact, he saw that it had once been white, but was now was covered in dirt and dried blood.  Now that they were standing he saw that her jeans and the long sleeves of her long underwear were similarly soiled.  

"I thought you said they didn't go to work on you," he asked indicating the state of her clothing.

She turned toward him and said blankly, "They didn't."  She hadn't thought about her own clothing and didn't understand what he was getting at.

Logan moved closer to her and tugged on the waist of her bloodied tee.  "What's this, then?"

She glanced down and her eyes widened in recognition.  "The blood is yours," she explained.  "I did tell you you're one heavy motherfucker, didn't I?" she continued trying to make a joke.  "You leaked all over me."

That's why she smelled familiar.  He recognized the metallic tang of his own blood on her clothing and body.  "Sorry," he offered, raising one hand, palm outward.

She shook her head as if to tell him to forget it led him past the couch and into the kitchen area.  With one finger pointed, she said, "Bathroom's there.  Help yourself.  I'm gonna find us something to eat."

Logan walked past her into the small bathroom and closed the door behind him.  One look in the mirror on the back of the door and he could tell that she was telling the truth when she said she'd dragged him out of that hellhole.  His clothes and body were a bloody mess.  His dark blue jeans could be washed and salvaged, but the wife-beater he wore wasn't even close to its original color, rather, it was heavily stained with blood and what looked to be mud.  He remembered that the floor of the cell wasn't concrete, but earth.  He realized that with enough blood on the ground, it could have easily turned into a muddy paste.  No wonder he'd been passed out for so long.  With enough blood loss, even he was susceptible to weakness.

Grimacing at the broken memories, he quickly stripped, turned the shower on and stepped in.  Logan closed his eyes as he allowed the hot water to penetrate his tired muscles.  

~~

Out in the kitchen, the woman watched her unexpected guest close the bathroom door before moving to her bedroom.  Pulling her hair out of the knot, she scrubbed her fingers against her scalp and unlaced her boots.  Fuck, she was exhausted.  The drive had taken out of her what the actual ordeal hadn't.  After making sure all the blinds in the house were closed, she began to cautiously turn lights on.  She truly believed that no one would be able to track them down, but it never hurt to be a little paranoid.

She heard the water turn on in the shower and she pulled her tee shirt and long underwear top completely out of her low-slung jeans, and tugged them over her head.  Pulling her hair into a loose ponytail, she trudged back into the kitchen for food in just her jeans and black sports bra, tossing the shirts into the kitchen garbage on her way.

~~

When Logan opened the bathroom door a few minutes later, the woman was facing away from him, bent at the waste in front of the open door of the oven.  She heard his movements and said, "I laid out sweats for you in the bedroom.  Help yourself."

Steam swirled into the kitchen and played on her pale skin still stained from blood that had seeped through the shirts in places.  He noticed a purplish bruise on her lower back and guessed that Sabertooth hadn't made their escape an easy one.  She righted herself and turned around.  He was still in the doorway, hair damp and towel knotted around his waist, drinking her in.

"Take a picture," she groused at him.

"You often take strange men into your house and then prance around half naked?" he wondered aloud.

"Don't matter how I'm dressed," she told him.  "It's my house and I do what I want."

Logan walked toward her, his movements slow and deliberate.  "That so?" he asked when he was standing in front of her.

The heat from his body wafted onto her bare skin and although her mouth went dry, she refused to back down.  "Yeah," she replied.  "That's so."

Hoping to distract herself, she tore her eyes away from his and focused on his clean, damp chest.  Her eyes immediately widened.  "You don't have a mark on you," she murmured, raising a hand to touch him but stopping short and pulling back.  

"Healing factor," he explained silkily.  "My mutation is that my body heals itself."

She nodded, trying to understand and not quite believing that she was actually in a room with another mutant.  "Then why…?"

"Why were they doing to town on me?" he finished her question.  "It wasn't for information, if that's what you think.  I assume they were just enjoying themselves," he replied darkly.

"Jesus Christ," she answered, staring at him.

"Yeah," Logan replied with a nod.  "What I don't get, though, is how they got you there."

"I wish I knew," she told him, shaking her head.  "I was hiking up in the Canadian Rockies when something fell on me or someone hit me over the head and I blacked out.  I woke up in that cell," she explained.

"You were in Alberta, Canada?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Yeah," she said.

"That's where I was when they got me," he said, realization creeping into his voice.

"Why, though?"

"Dunno," he admitted, drawing her gaze back to his.

Unsure how to proceed, she shook her head as if to clear it, then turned her back on him and pulled open the door of the refrigerator.  

"Go put on the sweats.  I've got a frozen pizza in the oven."

"Yum-yum," Logan answered sarcastically as he obeyed.

"I don't think the bad guys were going to offer you filet mignon, so why don't you just shut it?" she snapped as she tried to maintain control over her nerves.  She turned around and glared at him for good measure.

He dropped the towel and pulled on the sweat pants and tee shirt she'd laid out for him.  She immediately swiveled her body around and swallowed hard.  The man was built like a brick shit house, but goddamn if she didn't want it.

"When the timer goes off, pull the pizza out of the oven," she choked out before disappearing into the bathroom for her own shower.

~~

Logan watched the door close and heard the shower turn on a few minutes later.  He'd left his soiled clothes on the bathroom floor and now wished he'd picked up after himself.  "Fuck it," he said, suddenly not caring what she thought of him.  

With his hostess occupied he took the opportunity to explore his new surroundings.  The house wasn't big, but it looked worn and comfortable.  The living room held one small couch, one chair, and a TV.  The kitchen held a small oven with a stove, fridge, some cupboards, a pantry, a small table and two chairs.  The bedroom had a double bed, a dresser, a nightstand and a closet, most of which were nearly empty.  The sheets and blankets on the bed looked ancient.  There was a door in the kitchen that revealed stairs that went down to what was probably a basement.

The biggest thing he noticed was that there were no distinguishing pieces of memorabilia.  No framed pictures of her or anyone who looked like her.  No knickknacks.  No books.  Not even a calendar on the wall.  The cupboards were stocked with lots of canned goods.  A quick look in the refrigerator showed no fruits and vegetables.  He wondered how long she'd been living here.  Not long enough to have made her mark, although each room smelled of her and no one else.  He wondered where here was.  He quickly went through the kitchen drawers looking for any maps of the area and found none.

He was about to make a more thorough search of her bedroom when the timer went off.  Grimacing, he pulled on an oven mitt and took the pizza out of the oven.  As he did so, the water shut off in the bathroom and a few minutes later, the woman emerged in a towel of her own.  Before he could comment on her lack of clothing, she bit out, "Ever hear of a little thing called a hamper?  There's one behind the door here?  It's a receptacle used to store dirty clothes.  They're all the rage now."

"Woman, are you nagging me already?" he asked with an arched brow and a playful leer.

"Fuck you," she snapped, tense over how good he looked in her house, and disappeared behind the closed bedroom door.  

Logan chuckled.  She was so easy to rile and it was so entertaining.

When she came out of the bedroom a few minutes later dressed in pajama pants and a white tank top, she had to pause for a moment as she watched him move about her kitchen.  He was huge compared to her and the room was small.  Too close for comfort, she thought and decided that she'd drive him into town tomorrow, disappear the truck, and hike back here when she was done.  The last thing she needed was some guy who would attract attention staying here for any period of time.

Glad to have made the decision, she moved to cut the pizza and got out plates.  Opening the fridge, she got out two beers and after they were seated across from one another at the small table and they'd each taken a few bites, Logan asked her, "So you gonna tell me the story or do I hafta guess?"

"There's no story here," she lied uneasily.

"You know as well as I do that that's bullshit," he commented pleasantly.

Rolling her eyes, she remarked, "Bullshit or not, you're gonna be waiting a long time before I tell you jack."

"Not even your name?" he pried.

"You can call me Val," she said grudgingly.

"As in Valerie?" he ribbed her girly name.

"No," she answered him shortly.

"Fine," he accepted, ignoring her tone of voice.  "Val.  Are we in the states or Canada?"

"States."

"Which one?"

"Montana."

Logan tried to process this.  The last thing he remembered before waking up in that cell was hiking in the hills up by Alkali Lake.  It had been close to eight months since Jean's death and he couldn't help but head up there whenever he had some free time on his hands.  

"When I woke up in that hole in the ground I knew I wasn't alone," he remembered.  "You were the other person?"

"Yeah," she responded tightly, not wishing to think about it.

"Were you conscious the whole time?"

She shook her head and said, "I woke up there, too, but I got the feeling that it was a pretty small base.  Only one cell with one table, which is why they put us in together."

He nodded, agreeing with her analysis.

"I woke up on the floor, you were already tied down to the table.  The lighting was bad so they couldn't really tell what all I could see, but I sure as shit wasn't about to take the chance that I'd be next up there."

Logan nodded again, encouraging her to keep talking as they ate.

"I don't know what the hell they wanted with me," she confessed, not caring anymore that she was telling him what he wanted to know.

"Maybe they knew you were a mutant, too," he suggested with a soft voice.

"Maybe…but it don't add up," she murmured trying to think of a reason for her presence in that cell.  "I don't use my 'gifts.'  Not ever.  No one around here knows anything about 'em.  If they did know, I'd sure like to find out how."

"Strength, right?" guessed Logan.

She narrowed her eyes at him, and snarled, immediately defensive, "The fuck is it to you?"

"Nothing," he responded with a low voice, answering her challenge, but making sure she knew that it made no difference to him and he was no threat.  "Just taking a guess.  I figure it's the only way you could have beaten Sabertooth, dragged me out of that place and into the truck before blowing the hell out of it."  Then he leaned in toward her as he finished with a playful leer,  "Not to mention the fact that you don't seem too worried that you're a woman alone in a house in the middle of nowhere with a strange man."  He marveled at the contradiction.  She was literally half his size, but she clearly was able to handle herself if she'd taken out Sabertooth and managed to drag his own dead weight around.

"That's right," she said, "I could kick your ass from here to China if I wanted, but so far you haven't posed a big enough threat."

"So far," he repeated, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"Keep dreamin'," she scoffed.

Logan licked the grease from his fingers, finished his beer and said, "So what now?"

"What now, what?" she answered.

The pizza was gone and she felt tired and dull.  Her hair was in damp ringlets reaching the middle of her back and she nervously ran a hand through them.  Logan propped his elbows up on the table and said, "It's close to two in the morning.  I'm tired.  What now?"

"I'd offer you the couch, but it isn't very comfortable," she replied slowly.  "After what you've been through, you should at least get to sleep in a bed."

"Thanks," Logan replied with sincerity.  "So you'll take the couch."

"Hell, no," she replied.  "It's uncomfortable.  We can share the bed and I'll just beat you senseless if you're stupid enough to try anything."

"Sounds fair," Logan answered, intrigued.

She cleared the table and turned the lights off in the house.  He followed her into the bedroom and she moved to the side closest to the door and pulled the blanket back.  He rounded the corner of the bed and did the same.  The dim light emanating from the bedside lamp created a soft glow in the room.

Swiftly, Val slid between the sheets and Logan did the same.  She turned off the light and they each adjusted a little bit.  

After a few moments, she felt him turn over onto his side so that he faced her and say, "So if you live here alone how come you've got clothes that'll fit me?"

"Long story," she answered quickly.  Dammit, she thought, this was a bad idea.  Try to be the tough girl and see where it gets you.  She could bench press him, sure, but lying there in the dark beside him was making her think things she'd knew would lead to trouble.  He sensed her discomfort and enjoyed it.  Wanting to continue the conversation, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the dark and then propped himself up on an elbow before he purred softly, "Why do you live alone?"

"I like living alone," she answered, feeling her skin grow hot at the rasp of his voice.  He picked up her scent immediately.  He was turning her on and he loved it.  The predator in him came to the fore and he couldn't help but notice her soft, heavy breasts under the thin material of her tank top.  Closing his eyes he felt himself respond.  Bad idea, he thought.  A one-night stand with some strange woman was a bad idea.  Giving up on his game he fell back onto his back and stared at the ceiling.  

"You've got a lot of long stories," he observed quietly.

She took a shaky breath and said, "Everybody's gotta past."

"How long have you lived here?"

"Long enough," she growled softly, wishing he'd just the hell up.

"You've got some anger issues, you know that?" he mocked.

"Fuck off," she replied firmly.

"Why'd you get me outta there if all your gonna do is tell me to fuck off?"

He felt her stiffen as she remembered the things they'd done to him…the screams and the smell of all that blood.  "I told you.  I took you with me because it was the only thing I could do.  I can't explain it."

He heard the shift in her voice and he was glad he'd changed the subject, but uneasy, too.  She had saved his life.  True, he couldn't actually die, but if the rest of his days were spent strapped to a table while Magneto tortured him, he couldn't exactly call that a life.  Some acknowledgement was due.

Turning onto his side again, Logan took her wrist in his hand and said, "I know I said this earlier, but I wanna tell you again how grateful I am."

"Forget it," Val replied, thrown by his physical contact.

Logan's heightened senses again picked up on her obvious arousal and again he wondered how long she'd been here alone.  

"Val," he said softly.  "What's that short for?"

"Valens.  It's Latin for strong," she answered him quietly.

"So it's not the name you were born with," he guessed.

"That name is gone forever," she nodded bitterly, trying to remove her arm from his grasp.

Tightening his grip, Logan said, "Along with the rest of your life before the 'gifts' started to kick in?"  It was a story he was all-too familiar with.

Her heart rate had increased at his touch and again she tried to pull away.  "I appreciate you trying to feel my pain, but I got no time for this.  I'm tired.  Good night."  Her sarcasm made him smile and again he refused to release her arm.  Instead, he began to move his thumb in slow circles around the pulse at her wrist.  If she really did have superhuman strength, she'd be able to toss him on his ass with little effort.  The fact that she was allowing his touch meant that she liked it…wanted it.

"Is that why you're so ornery?" he asked playfully.

"The first thing you did in the truck was put your knives to my throat," Val noted dryly.  "I wouldn't exactly call that friendly."

"And you weren't surprised," he said remembering.  

"You had 'em out when you first woke up on the table," she reminded him in a tight voice, wishing he'd stop with his goddamn thumb.

"So I guess we're both ornery," he said conversationally as he maintained his grip on her.  Her scent was going to his head.  He closed his eyes again and savored it as he waited for her to answer.  One-nighters are a bad idea, Logan, told himself again.  Maybe he'd be doing her a favor, though.

"Guess so," she whispered.

"Val," he murmured as he moved closer to her in the dark.

"What," she grated as she felt him drawing nearer.

"Are you gonna kick my ass from here to China?" he asked slowly as he grazed the tip of his nose against her temple.

"Maybe," she answered, squirming at the heat she felt between her legs.

Get a grip, Val, she thought.  Who the fuck did this prick think he was?  Yeah, maybe she was hard up, but that didn't mean she'd fuck just anybody.  Finally, she pulled her wrist out of his grip and used her momentum to punch him squarely in the ribs.  He landed on the floor with a grunt.

"Fuck, baby, I like it rough but you gotta warn a guy," Logan said good-naturedly as he stood up.  

"I told you to keep your hands to yourself," she said as he got back in bed.

"No," he replied.  "Actually you said you'd kick my ass if I was stupid enough to try anything."

"What's your point?"

"No point," he answered as he settled in again.  "I just think it's been a long time for you and I know it's been a long time for me, so maybe we could do each other a favor."

Immediately Logan noticed her heart rate increase again.  "That's none of your business," Val answered stiffly.

"'Course not, but that don't mean it's not true.  We could…take care of each other."  He heard her breathing turn shallow and he felt dizzy as her scent permeated the air around him.

"Take care of each other?"  Val's brain was on sensory overload.  Those chest muscles and broad back, narrow waist, tight ass…she couldn't help but notice it all when he'd come out of the shower and dropped the towel to get a rise out of her.  The truth was that it _had_ been long time, longer than she cared to admit, in fact.

"Mmm hmm," he murmured.  

"After what they did to your body, how can you possibly want that?" she asked trying to distract him with reason.

"Healing factor," he reminded her softly.  "I'm all better now."

"Oh," she said.  She felt paralyzed, pinned to the bed with indecision.  She knew if she had to fight him the very worst that would happen was a stalemate, but it had been so long for her that she wasn't sure how to behave in situations like this, anymore.  Did she make the first move?  Did she allow him to seduce her?  What was the signal for telling him she wanted him?  Fuck, it was all so confusing that she felt like hanging her head in shame and going to sleep on the couch herself.  

The pressing heat between her legs begged for attention, though, and she was reminded of the expression, 'never look a gift horse in the mouth.'  They would almost certainly part ways tomorrow.  What the hell did it matter if they fucked tonight?

"All right," she said, defeated by her body.  "But we're just doing each other a favor.  I'm taking you into town tomorrow and leaving you there.  You can hitch a ride to Helena and from there you can get to wherever you need to be.  Don't ever come back here," she demanded.  "Deal?"

"Deal," he agreed before pulling her on top of him and grinding his mouth against hers.  She kissed him back hard and tentatively allowed her fingers to explore his face and neck, enjoying the stubble.  Growing bolder, she moved her hands down his broad shoulders and across his chest muscles.  Unable to resist, she let out a low moan into his mouth as she squeezed flat nipples through the borrowed tee shirt.

Logan answered her moan with one of his own as he trailed his hands down her back to her ass and pressed her hard against him.  Flipping them over so that he was on top, he broke away from her to leave hot, wet kisses down her neck to her breasts.  As he took one hardened nub into his mouth to suckle through her tank top, he used his fingers to pet her inner thighs.  The friction of the rough fabric against her sensitive nipples made Val gasp with need.  

"Goddammit!" she moaned as she writhed beneath him.

"I know, baby.  I know," he rasped as he lifted her up and in one swift motion tore her tank top up and over her head.  Her hot skin felt the rush of cool air and she immediately pressed close to him, seeking his warmth.  Quickly doffing his own shirt, he pressed against her again and continued his attentions to her swollen breasts.

Val thought her body was going to explode.  Every single part of her hummed with excitement.  He felt so good…this was exactly what she needed.  Even a modern woman needs a good fuck every once in a while.

"Fuck," she groaned and he laughed a little from deep inside his chest.  

"Exactly," he ground out as he pushed her pajama bottoms down her full hips toward the foot of the bed.  Still using his tongue to alternate between nipples, he put one hand on the wet fabric of her panties and groaned at the hot flesh he felt beneath his fingers.

"God, you are so wet," he growled.  "I can't wait to taste you."

At the mental image his words conjured, Val instinctively thrust her hips up.  "That's right," he gasped as she continued her thrusting against his fingers.  "Jesus you feel good."

Quickly pulling her panties down, Logan used his legs to push hers apart as he slid down to put his face near her wet body.  Taking one long slow taste nearly made him climax and he fought for control.  She tasted hot and tart, the way he'd often imagined Jean might taste.  

Val was panting in earnest now, clawing at the mattress and moaning loudly.  "Fuck!" she cried out.  "Fuck me!"

Logan lifted his head and said in a tight, barely controlled voice, "You got it."

Pushing his sweats down past his knees and ankles, he kicked them aside and pressed the tip of his hardness against her soft, wet opening.  Still panting wildly, Val moaned, "Please."

Logan fought for control.  It was insane, really.  He'd had good fucks before, but this was incredible.  He thought he might come just listening to her beg him to fuck her.  Closing his eyes, he entered her in one swift motion.  Val was so wet that he didn't have to stop and allow for adjustments in her body.  She just took him in, all the way, and he again had to fight to maintain his control over his body.  It had been so long that she had her first orgasm as soon as he was completely sheathed in her.  Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her as her silky walls spasmed around him.  Her eyes rolled back into her head and her nails scraped his shoulders.

Gasping for breath he waited a moment for her to finish before he began to thrust, slowly at first and then, at her insistence, more urgently.  She wrapped her legs around his and rocked against him in time.  Again and again he felt her climax until he knew he couldn't hold off any longer.  

As he felt himself explode within her, Logan's last coherent thought was one of tremendous disappointment that they'd only have this one night.


	3. Chapter Three

A Girl After His Own Heart – Chapter Three

Disclaimer:  I don't own anything but the story idea.

~~

The next morning Val slept in.  The previous day's ordeal, not to mention the endless and exhausting night, had taken its toll.  As she slowly drifted awake, though, her muscles protested and she was reminded of all the things she'd asked them to do the night before.  Gingerly opening her eyes, she realized that she was alone in her bed and she allowed herself to blush.  They'd lost count of the number of times they'd made…no, she corrected herself with a frown, the color leaving her face.  They'd lost count of the number of times they'd _fucked_.  The sunlight pushing through her blinds lent a sharp edge the morning after and she grimaced.  Pulling on her pajama bottoms and white tank top from the night before, she stumbled into the kitchen.  Fresh from a shower and wearing his jeans, now cleaner, and nothing else, Logan puttered around in her kitchen.

"Mornin', sleepyhead," he drawled with warm eyes as he sipped his coffee.  Her hair had dried in the night and it was now a rumpled mess.  He smiled and thought she looked adorable.

"Mmm," she answered shyly.  Unable to meet his gaze she kept her head down and headed straight for the coffee maker.  After pouring herself a generous portion, she moved to the table and they sat awkwardly across from one another as they had the night before.

Val hunched her shoulders and slurped the dark brew.  "Thanks for making coffee," she mumbled after half her mug was gone.

"It was the least I could do," Logan answered with a low voice.

"You found the washer and dryer?" she assumed.

"In the basement, yeah," he nodded.  "I hope you don't mind."

She shook her head quickly and said,  "Not at all."  Still unable to look him in the eye, her gaze settled, unfocused and still sleepy, on his chest and she absently appreciated the view.

"Take a picture," he teased.

She blushed but ignored him and got up to pour herself another cup of coffee.

"You know what day of the week it is?" Logan inquired.

"No idea," she replied as she sat down again, glad that they were not addressing the events of the previous night.

"Don't you work or…anything?" he asked, curious.

"No," she said quietly with a bit of a catch in her voice.

"How come?"

"Let's just say this is the way my family keeps the black sheep outta the barn," she said ruefully.

He nodded in understanding.  Her parents or somebody obviously paid for this place and sent her money for food and anything she might need to keep her from coming home.

"That's gotta be rough," Logan acknowledged, trying to catch her guarded blue eyes.

"Not as hard as living _with_ them was.  I was glad to get out," Val shrugged, trying to maintain a light tone.  

"When was the last time you saw them?" Logan inquired still trying to gauge the length of time she'd lived here.

"I don't really want to talk about it," she replied with an edge to her voice.

"Well I guess that's better than 'fuck off'," he teased, trying to change the mood.  "You know, you're a lot nicer after a good – "

"Fuck off," she replied with a smile before draining her cup. 

He chuckled and said, "That's more like it."

Not wishing to get too chummy, Val refused fall into the playful banter that he seemed to be pushing for.  Instead, she forced herself to say quietly but firmly, "The nearest town is about thirty miles away.  I'm thinking we should get going pretty soon."

Logan nodded and acknowledged to himself the disappointment.  He had hoped that after last night she'd have changed her mind, but he wasn't going to beg.  The last thing he wanted to do was hang around someplace he wasn't wanted.  

Crossing into her bedroom, he paused to note the messy bed and the delightful memories that they brought to mind.  Locating the tee shirt she'd given him last night, he quickly pulled it on, then added the socks he'd recently pulled from the dryer and his boots.  He'd have to come up with some kind of jacket, but other than that, he was ready to go.  He went to the living room and sat on the couch to wait for her.

~~

In the bathroom, Val stood under the hot spray relishing the memories of the previous night.  As she washed her hair, she toyed with the idea of asking him to stay one more day, but knew it was pointless.  He wasn't from these parts and he probably had people worried about him.  There was no point in asking him to stay because she knew he wouldn't and she'd be damned if she'd set herself up for a fall like that.  She'd have the memories of last night to keep her warm and that would have to be enough, she decided grimly.

Turning the water off she got out and dried herself before wrapping her body in the towel and heading for the bedroom.  She found that the bed was still a mess but she didn't care – it reminded her of what they'd done.  Dropping her towel on the floor, she opened a drawer and pulled on panties and a bra.  Adding jeans and a long-sleeved cotton top, she wound her still-wet hair into another tight knot at the base of her neck and sat on the bed to pull on her socks.

Val finished dressing and put on her boots, then she entered the living room and said softly with much regret, "Ready?"

"Yeah," he replied in a similar tone.  "I need a jacket, though, and some money."

Her huge leather jacket was still slung across the chair and she picked it up.  "This has always been ridiculously big on me…got it at a flea market years ago.  Do you think it'll fit you?"

Logan pulled it on and found that it was just a little small.  He could deal, though.  He loved that it was saturated with her scent.  "It's perfect," he responded.

Pulling a wad of cash from her jeans pocket, she pushed it into his hand and then opened the small closet near the front door and pulled out her parka, a hat, scarf, and gloves.  "Let's go," she said with a hint of something he couldn't read.

Logan followed her out the door and to the pick up, still parked next to the beat up Ford.

"Where are you going to leave it?"

"There's a deep ravine about ten minutes outside of town.  I'm gonna push it in and hike back here."

He nodded thoughtfully.  "Sounds like a good plan."

She started the engine and headed for town, driving slower than she had been last night.  He wondered idly if she was not looking forward to his exit from her life.

The thirty miles went by quickly and she pulled up outside of the town's only eatery.  It was a combination laundromat-bar-restaurant called Suds, Duds, & Spuds.  

"Are you kidding me?" he asked, amused.

"Lotsa truckers pass through here on their way to Helena," she said her voice filled with emotion.  "You'll find a hitch, no problem."

"Well…thanks for the ride," he said suggestively.

She blushed and chuckled, getting the joke and allowing it to break the tension.  "My pleasure," she answered staring at him meaningfully.

He leaned across the seat and brought his face close to hers, never breaking the look.  "Guess this is it."

"Uh-huh," she whispered.

Brushing his lips against hers he playful nipped at her and she let out a breath and pressed mouth against his hard.  She let her fingers push into his hair as his tongue forced its way into her mouth.  She enjoyed herself thoroughly before he finally pulled back and said slowly and with no little amount of sorrow,  "I guess I'll be seeing you."

She nodded and replied shakily, "Take it easy."

Just before he pushed open the door and disappeared he said brokenly, "You, too."

Before she could answer, he slammed the door and headed into the bar.  Val watched him until he disappeared and then drove away wishing she didn't miss him so much already.

End.


End file.
